Voices of a troubled sleep.
by PaganPoetry
Summary: This is about how Frodo might feel as he tries to make up his mind wether or not to go to Mordor. Please R


Voices of a troubled sleep.  
  
This is my interpretation of how Frodo might feel, when faced with the decision, what to do with the ring? Should he go to Mordor or to Gondor? Please review me. I think it's quite good, but I wrote it at two O'clock this morning so it may not be that great.   
  
  
  
Frodo lay in a troubled sleep, tossing and turning. His mind was filled with dreams and voices;  
"I warn you that peril is now both before you and behind you, and upon either side."  
"No!" His dream self called out. "Not me. Danger...Danger and adventure, I don't want it! I won't...I can't..." His voice trailed off. "I just want to live in peace like any hobbit deserves."  
He was pleading now. If only he could make them see. The accusing faces that surrounded him, penning him in.   
"So heavy that none could lay it upon another." Said Elrond, "You accepted that. You knew. You had a choice and you cannot cast your burden aside now. You MUST go on."  
Then the faces were gone, and his mind went blank.  
  
No. Not blank. There was an eye there. Red and glaring. Searching for him.   
He cried out and woke with a start. Sweat covered his forehead and trickled down into his eyes, blurring his vision.  
Silently he rose and walked out of the campsite. He rested his back against a tree and slowly slid to the floor. Unconsciously his eyes wandered east. To Mordor.   
  
"And thither I must go." He whispered. "But I am small and weak and so afraid. And there will be no great warriors to help me or to do it for me."  
Pictures filled his mind of the last alliance of elves and men, and the overthrow of Sauron. Elves in bright armour with shinning eyes. Tall men of Numenor. Their bright swords glittered in the moonlight. Gil-Galad. Elendil. Together they beat back the tide of orcs and fell creatures out of the deep. But elves and the Numenorians were stronger then.  
  
"If only the one ring had been destroyed then, that I need not come into this burden."  
  
The vision faded until all that was left was a Field of dead, of broken spears and blood and grief. And a man, tall and proud. Who held aloft a great prize. The one ring which Sauron wrought. He kept it unto himself. Compensation he claimed for his lost father and brother whom he had loved. He was Isildur.  
  
"How can one hobbit hope to achieve what a whole army of elves and men could not.?" He cried out.  
"And if I do succeed, what them? What will become of Lorien and the elves? And their rings? If only they could aid me. But will they even survive, once the one is lost?"  
Elronds words floated back to him.  
"Some hope that the three rings that Sauron never touched would then become free, and their rulers might heal the hurts of the world that he hath wrought. But maybe when the one is gone, the three will fail, and many fair things will fade and be forgotten. That is my belief."  
  
Frodo sighed. "If I succeed, I'll destroy so much that is held fair. How can I do that? Yet if I do not do that, we will be plunged back into the dark days.  
The Shire, my Shire would be destroyed. And Rivendell and Gondor, they cannot hold out forever. And Bombadil. Old Tom Bombadil. What of him?  
And what if I fail, and the ring is taken?  
No. It has to go. That's plain enough. But it's such an impossible task. What hope have I got for even finding the fire? Mordor's a huge place and I can't exactly ask an orc for directions!"  
  
He smiled sadly at the thought. His eyes filled with tears and he pulled his cloak more tightly about him for comfort.  
  
"On the one hand lies darkness, and on the other only hope. That's what the lady said. But why must I go into darkness to bring others hope, while I have little or none myself.  
  
He sat silently for a while. Then he rose and went back to his blankets.  
"Well Frodo Baggins, it's as plain as the nose on your face, as Sam would say, what you've got to do. I wish it weren't. I wish none of this had ever happened.  
And now it's off to Mordor I suppose. But will I be able to, when the time comes?  
I'm so afraid."  
  
He wrapped himself in his blankets and lay down on the hard earth. His last thought before sleep took him was, "How will I tell the others?"  
Then he slept. One hand inside his tunic, clutching at the one ring.  



End file.
